


Ivy's Tooth

by T Verano (t_verano)



Series: Ivy's Tooth [1]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Community: sentinel_thurs, M/M, Sentinel Thursday, The plants in the loft are symbolic who knew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2020-03-08 19:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18900835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: Blair's been away. All things flora and fauna that reside in the loft have missed him.





	Ivy's Tooth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sentinel Thursday challenges 155 ('missing you') and 487 ('plant').
> 
> I lust over plants, but I don't know many of them well (my inept care tends to kayo them before we even shake hands and exchange pleasantries for the first time). Plant stuff included here therefore may be less than reasonable. Sorry!
> 
> The title is from a poem from _The Thousand and One Nights._ I don't know who translated this version, but I first read it many years ago and it's stayed with me vividly.  
>  __  
> Love was before the light began,  
>     When light is over, love shall be;  
>    O warm hand in the grave, O bridge of truth,  
>    O ivy's tooth,  
>    Eating the green heart of the tree  
>    Of man!  
> 

The first thing Blair says, as soon as he gets in the elevator and punches '3', is: "Hey, Jim, I'm home; did you miss me?"

The second thing Blair says, after he shuts the loft door behind himself and drops his duffle bag onto the chair beside the door, is: "You forgot to water the plants. Jim —"

"You actually expected me to remember?" Jim murmurs against the side of Blair's head, nuzzling his way towards Blair's ear.

"Right. I only reminded you every time we talked, and we only talked, what, twice a day? Why would I possibly expect you to have remembered? I'm taking _your_ credit card to the nursery to replace everything you killed." Blair's hands are in the no-space between them, roaming up the T-shirt-covered planes of Jim's chest to say hello to Jim's nipples before sliding around Jim's back to pull him in more tightly.

"Get cactus this time," Jim says. He takes Blair's earlobe between his teeth and gives it a tug. "Better yet, don't go off to Timbuktu again and leave your plants and me to fend for ourselves for two weeks. It won't end well, trust me."

Blair's hands stop their slow slide down Jim's back. He frowns. "You killed them on purpose, didn't you, you —"

Jim exhales gently into Blair's ear and Blair shivers before he finds his voice again. "You passive-aggressive, plant-murdering —"

"Yep, that's me," Jim says as he dips his head to begin kissing Blair's neck.

"— floriopathic…." Blair interrupts himself with a moan as he tilts his head sideways and back. 

"…Peoria," he adds, eventually, as his hands resume their slide down Jim's back. "The conference was in Peoria. You jerk."

Jim unlatches his lips from Blair's neck. "Mmm-hmm. By the way," he says, lifting his head to look Blair in the eyes, "no."

"No?" Blair's hands stop moving again, just below the small of Jim's back.

"No. I didn't miss you at all."

Jim holds Blair's gaze for a long, silent moment before he drops his eyes to Blair's mouth.

"Good, that's good," Blair mutters. "Good to know." The movement he makes, angling his face up towards Jim's, is almost too small to be seen.

Jim sees it, clearly. His eyes darken. His hands move up to cradle Blair's head and his mouth seeks out Blair's mouth, his body crowding Blair backwards until Blair's back hits the Red Heron poster on the loft door with a muted thud.

On the key-basket table beside the door the wilting maidenhair fern shivers, delicately.

\-------------------------

"Hi," Blair says in a whisper against Jim's lips. It's not the first thing he's said since they made it upstairs, but it's the first thing he's said since the tied-off condom got tossed haphazardly in the direction of the wastebasket and Jim pulled Blair down to lie on top of his chest, his breath still coming hard and fast and ragged.

"Hi," Blair whispers again, as a dried-out leaf from the aspidistra plant on the dresser drifts through the air and gently comes to rest on the gray cotton boxers lying on the floor between the dresser and the bed.

Jim's only answer is a half-asleep, "Mmm."

Blair tucks his head down against Jim's shoulder, brushes a kiss against Jim's collarbone. "Hey," he says after a minute, "Jim? Water the plants next time, okay? For me? It's not that much to ask."

Underneath the rumpled blue sheets Jim's arm tightens across Blair's back. "Can't say I agree with you on that, Chief," Jim says. "Fucking Timbuktu."

Blair shakes his head, smiling against Jim's neck. "It was Peoria, man," he says, "fucking _Peoria_." He huffs a breath into the hollow at the base of Jim's throat. "FYI, I missed you, too."

Jim's arm tightens around Blair again. Downstairs, a brown-edged leaf detaches itself from the ficus and spirals lazily down to join half a dozen other brown-edged leaves on the floor beside the balcony doors.

"Timbuktu," Jim mutters, resting his chin against the top of Blair's head, "fucking _Timbuktu_."


End file.
